“You’ve got issues,” Finn said.
“I know,” I replied glumly.
“You should talk to Lana.”
“What?” Lana was Grace’s cousin and a psychology major. I guess talking to her was better than not seeing AM ever again.
“That girl’s scary. Hot but scary,” Finn went on.
“What makes you say that?”
“Last party we had? I said something about how those ‘your momma’ jokes are like a documentary of my life, and Lana leaned over and said ‘Oedipus, huh?’ I had to look it up.”
“And.”
“He’s the original mother-fucker.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m hoping there’s another Greek character I can be patterned after.”
“Ask Noah. He’s read The Odyssey.”
After we’d sanded the patch smooth, Finn pulled out a jar of white paint that I applied over the patch. When we were done it didn’t look half bad. I swept up all the debris until the place looked like we’d never been there. Could it be as easy fixing things with AM? I doubted it, but because I was a dumb impulsive ass, I left a Post-it note on the mirror in the front hall.
AM
Sorry about the hole in the wall. And everything else.
BO
Chapter
Chapter Twenty-Four
AM
BO SKIPPED MONDAY CLASS. I kept his note in my backpack the entire time. I didn’t know what to make of it. The minute I had read it, I texted him back that I was sorry, too, but silence was the only response.
Instead, I had to take the one phone call I was dreading. At 6 in the evening on Monday, my phone rang and the caller ID showed an unknown source with the Chicago area code. It could only be Roger.
I swallowed hard and answered it. “AnnMarie here.”
“AnnMarie, it’s Roger. Roger Price.” I rolled my eyes. How many Rogers did he think I knew?
“This is a surprise, Roger.” I enunciated his name carefully so that he was clear that I knew exactly to whom I was speaking.
“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve received a disturbing phone call from an old Central College classmate of mine.”
I decided to go on the offensive because at this point, what did I really have to lose? “Clay Howard’s calling his dad to spread rumors about me now? I knew he took my brush-off hard, but this is kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”
“Hmmph,” he said. I held my breath as Roger processed this. “Is this some kind of bad prank?” he finally asked.
“Like a fraternity prank? I’m not Greek, Roger.” I emphasized his name again petulantly. “But if it is a prank, it’s in really poor taste.”
“I think we both agree on that,” Roger said. “AnnMarie, are you trying to act out to get my attention? As I explained to your mother, I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together at the holidays but my, ah, other obligations were pressing. I’d like to take the two of you to Italy during your spring break this year.”
Unbelievable. Roger, the narcissist, thought it was all about him. I wasn’t even sure that he cared if I was the college slut. He only cared whether I was engaged in some post-teen rebellion that might reflect badly on him. I didn’t know what my mother saw in him.
“Do you love Mom, really love her?” I asked.
The question must have caught him off guard because he didn’t have an immediate response. When he answered, his words were measured, his voice cautious. “Our situation may be unconventional, but yes, I do care for your mother deeply.”
Just not enough to leave your wife, I thought. Not wanting to antagonize Roger more, I simply replied, “I hope so.”
“Well, then, thank you for taking my call, AnnMarie. I’ll be sure to tell Clay Howard just exactly what I think of his son making up stories simply because he was rejected. Very ugly flaw in his character. I hope everything else is going well?” Roger’s voice turned formal again.
“Swimmingly, Roger, just swimmingly,” I said.
“You’ll call if you need anything? You can reach me by this number,” Roger offered, ignoring my sarcasm.
This time the pause was on my end. Roger had never offered me anything before.
“I thought you preferred not to receive my requests?” It was more question than statement.
“And I, AnnMarie, thought that your frequent avoidance of me meant that you preferred that I didn’t exist,” Roger replied bluntly.
“Huh, I guess we were both wrong,” I sighed. Roger made me repeat the phone number to him before he hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand with disbelief. Was it possible that Clay’s threat was actually going to mend a rift between my father and me? It’s not like we were immediately going to fall into a father-daughter relationship, but perhaps we could actually sit in the same room together without being overwhelmed with animosity.